Time had worn him, wearied him unmeasurably. His face had more weatherbeaten lines, spiky auburn hair streaked with grey, skin tan and less taut than it had been years ago. But he'd fought time, still impressively muscled, tall and strong and possessed of a lazy animal grace. It was his eyes, however, that were different; once a surprisingly soft emerald, they had hardened to a cold serpentine green, just like his daughter's eyes.

His daughter.

He hadn't seen her in eight years; eight godforsaken guilty years. He remembered the last time he'd seen her, at the IF spaceport at Stumpy Point. She'd climbed from the shuttle, and all the remorse of the past struck him now. She'd been so small, so tiny, but still with that cat-like demeanor so like her mother. He hadn't been altogether too surprised to find that she'd iced from Battle School-- after all, like father like daughter. But it was the sight of Jax beside her that had disturbed him. Jax, the military school bastard who had broken his little girl's heart, turned her into a mirror of himself. When he'd learned that he would be allowed to meet her for a brief moment, before she was taken away for evaluation, before she was sent to that hell of Charybdis, he'd booked the first flight to North Carolina. Nothing could have stopped him from that last reunion, and he'd brought her protection, the dagger that his own father had given him.

When she stalked up to hug him, little arms around his neck, he'd pressed the weapon against her stomach. Just like her, to be so discreet as she tucked it into her uniform and grinned up at him with that familiar smirk, so like his own. But it was his words that surprised her, surprised even himself as he told her that he loved her. He hadn't admitted that to anyone, not since his beloved wife died giving birth to his little hellcat. Time softens all wounds, however, and he was filled with guilt for not being able to save her from the certain death they were sending her to.

Satisfied vengeance filled him too, when he heard of Jax's disappearance from the IF military facility they'd held the quartet at during their psychiatric re-evaluation. It had been big news throughout the staff, rumors flying, smirking comments made about the unreliability of guards these days. But Robert had only smiled quietly to himself as he heard the stories, listened to the theories of what might have happened. He knew, he knew what had happened, because it was just what would be completely expected of his girl. Jax was dead, and no one knew but himself and the ruthless daughter he'd raised. When they sent her to the Institute, he'd mourned her loss while he celebrated her own revenge.

And now, somehow, she'd managed to convince them she was "rehabilitated," and they'd miraculously released her from the Charybdis Institute, sending her to school here. He'd gotten the notice in the mail the same day the IF announced they needed him at Command School for a few days, to reassess the defensive weapons system that protected the asteroid compound. The prospect of seeing her again after all this time gnawed at his thoughts, distracting him from work, keeping him awake at night until he'd boarded the tug from the IF Command Central Post, hidden on a nearby planet. During the two days of his flight, he'd found himself nervous, anxious, angry, guilty, frustrated; too many emotions to categorize.

Eight years, and he was about to see his little Kitten once more.

Wick, the girl who had started this all. She remembered their first fight in the hallways... starting out as a confrontation between her and Jor. Dante shook her head slightly. Jorry. It hadn't been her fault that he was given Toon B instead of Mitch's second-in-command spot like she had... and it had nothing to do with any sort of relationship between her and the commander, like he so maliciously implied. Why would she steal a toon leader position from the boy she liked?

No. She had to plot. Old nostalgic thoughts of Jor would only interfere. But they insisted on coming... she reached a hand to touch her throat, surprised to find her amulet missing. Pocket; she'd taken it off in the observatory, placed it in her pocket. Breathing a sigh of relief, she remembered the first person who had ever worn that charm for her. That little gold trinket against Jor's tanned throat, the way he used to smile when they flew together in the battleroom.

She wondered briefly if things ever could have worked between them, had their unfortunate battle not occurred. She doubted it, though. He'd been too rough, even then, and thirteen is not an age when testing all your barriers is an option, especially not in the strict regime of Battle School. Now he had Wick... but was he really attached? She'd been turned against Nathan. Could he be turned against that little pyro bitch of his?

Dante was suddenly struck by a very good idea.

That was a possible way to get Wick out of this picture. Appeal to Jor; he hadn't killed her, back during their fight in Fox. There was still some remnant of attachment there, and she intended to play on it. This was new ground for her... Dante never used her love to manipulate. But others seemed able to do it-- Wick, Nathan, even Roxy was guilty. It couldn't be that hard.

She smiled to herself when she noticed Jor sitting in the commons, off to the side on a small bench. He was alone, and didn't appear as if he were waiting for anyone. Perfect. Time to see just how well the ice could play.

The commons seemed a logical place for him to rest and watch the crowds, to try and forget about Wick's injuries and what he was going to have to do. Jor seated himself on a bench, one on the outskirts of the large plaza, lounging lazily with his arms over the seatback as his eyes followed the passing soldiers. He didn't notice Dante until she slipped into the empty space beside him and gave him the same shy smile that he hadn't seen in years. "Hi, Jorry."

For once, Jor didn't know what to say.

Their last "reunion" in the commons had been anything but friendly. Wick had hidden herself, even, to avoid seeing their former commander, but he had no been so fortunate. The hissingly bitter exchange was familiar, practiced over their time together in Fox, their time together before in Panther Army when she'd stolen his pride and taken his position. Seeing Mitch beside her had been a double hit, especially after he'd thought that she'd... bribed the older man to take his second-in-command spot. And now, here she was trying to talk to him? Jor didn't like this one bit.

"Hello, Anjélice." Nothing more, nothing less, but his cold tone didn't discourage her. She smiled a little broader, averting those now violet eyes away from him, and he was surprised by the slight blush on her face. Wait. This wasn't the Dante he knew following their battles, the ice princess with a snowy soul. She was acting... like things had been before, when they were together.

Damn.

Well, what did you expect? That he'd fall at your feet again and just believe this shy little facade you're putting up? That might have worked a few years ago. It's not going to work now. Dante wasn't about to listen to her conscious. The ice psyche knew that Jor was the quickest route to Wick. He was going to play her game whether he wanted to or not.

"Mitch?" She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, feigning confusion. "I only see Mitchell in class sometimes. Why?" His eyes shifted green, and she knew he was caught. That little stab at her hadn't worked, and she'd managed to turn it around, boomeranging his snide attempt right back in his face. You're weakening already, Jorry...

"I don't know. Seems you always like that boy." Dante didn't miss the bitter undertone to his sarcastic voice, and surprised herself by allowing a measure of hurt into her violet eyes as she turned to look at him, lips slightly parted as if she wanted to speak and had her words taken away. His features hardened impercetably, but he blushed under the tan of his skin, and a tiny snicker laughed inside herself.

Time for a change of tactics. Digging into her pocket, she retrieved her amulet, the thin gold chain tangled in her fingers as she held it up for him to see. The star dangled, swinging with mesmerizing memory as his emerald eyes widened. Flushing, Dante tilted her head to the side, whispering with all the shy nostalgia she could produce. "Remember when you wore this for me, Jorry?"

"I wish I didn't."

Sometimes I miss you, Jorry.

Missed him?! That was the last thing he expected her to say. I beat you after you took my position, Anjélice! he wanted to shout, slap her for even invoking all those memories. I broke your ribs! Wick and I plotted what was supposed to be your death, and Nathan's death! And you fucking miss me?!

"Well, I..." That wasn't a good start. Actually, any reply that he tried to think up just didn't seem right once he started to form the words, and Jor was at a loss. I don't miss you, Dante. You got what you deserved, Dante. I love Wick and I never want to see you again, Dante. I miss you too, Anjélice. No, goddamnit, that was not what he wanted to say.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I don't see where this conversation of ours is going, Anjélice. I have places to be. Maybe you should concentrate on not to get yourself killed by that Angel of yours, eh?" Jor pushed himself away from her, standing to glance down into her pale bruised face, fiery hair curling around her thin shoulders as she looked up into his face, surprising hurt in her violet eyes. Damnit. He was not going to cave into her little game. He refused to be pulled around like a toy, and a sudden urge to see his spark struck him. There were no games with her; just them, their love, and that was it. Old memories of Dante were long passed from his dreams. He didn't need her back in them.

Dante sighed, feeling the light weight of her amulet, hidden within her pocket. That hadn't worked at all, and she felt foolish, watching Jorry as he stalked away from the commons. All that effort, all that ice, and nothing to show. Sighing again, she pushed herself up from the bench, straightening herself into precise position once more. Commander Iddantel, you were, once. Act like it.

He had stopped because he had nowhere to go. The boy had never been here before; how did they expect him to find his quad? But he didn't worry - he was content to stand and take in the surroundings, remembering the twists and turns of fate that had brought him to this point in his life - the monitors, the arrival at Battle School, his first beating, his first promotion, his first revenge...

Up close, he was even more gawkish than he appeared from far away, but he didn't carry the normal air of apologetic confusion boys like this generally exuded. Short black hair, fair skin and brown eyes met her own dark green gaze with no bashfulness at all. She raised an eyebrow.

In his mind, a battle raged and died in an instant. Pride lost to practicality, and even as she offered to help, he had already made up his mind to accept.

Helen glanced around, not many people walking around. Everyone was still in class. She'd been over-joyed when they'd been let out early, but now she wasn't so sure. The fight in the Engineering bay had made her weary, a sinking feeling following her around wherever she went. She glanced at the time, counting down the minutes till he got out... She'd felt so much safer when she was with him... but no... nathan wasn't after her or cas at all.... he couldn't be, he had no reason... it was dante, wasn't it? She'd heard stories about what happened, out of her former commander's hearing of course. She wasn't sure if she should believe them, but if they were true...

The girls were just beginning to file from their class, slowly entering the plaza from the hallways. Dominic caught sight of them, and after giving his twin a smirk, proceeded to be attacked by a giggling Rox. She bounded over, leaving her companions, and nimbly hopped into his arms, kissing his ear. "I fell asleep in class cause of you, Dommy, big naughty boy..." he just laughed with her, dropping her to the ground beside him, and turned to watch the others as she smiled at her friends.

Swede, however, had just been joined with Pallas as they watched the exchange, and stared without tact at the pair, elbowing Pallas roughly as she finally managed to whisper to the girl. "Uh, Pallaz, I doez not know vat eez diz, but..." Pallas ignored her, blinking slowly in her own form of observation, and Swede was finally shaken from her disbelief as Rox caught the look and crowed loudly. "Hahaha, Nene, you okay? I think she's seen a ghost, Dommy, look at her!"

Meanwhile, Dante wasn't quite sure whether or not to tell Donovan as he sat her down at a table and asked what was wrong. The concern in his demeanor was evident, but she didn't want anyone else to overhear as she moved closer, placing a light hand on his shoulder as she whispered into his ear. "Nicolai and I got in a very... bad... fight this morning, and... well, it got pretty nasty and finally Bali made him leave. But, today in class, I heard that... I guess that Nathan attacked someone else, and..."

Dante shivered slightly as Donovan held her, managing to collect herself enough by the time he pulled away to look straight into her eyes, so that silver was present instead of the muddled frightened violet. She couldn't imagine letting him get hurt again, not like last time, not if she could prevent it somehow. She tried to reason with herself, thinking that perhaps Nathan wouldn't really attack her, but the survivalist inside her pointed out that he certainly wouldn't if someone attacked or killed him first.

He understood her concern. He'd been beaten the last time, and that quite easily. Nathan was fast, agile and completely unconcerned with how much he damaged his opponent. Donovan had been trained for combat since he was twelve, but the Creche had a long list of skills to imprint into their charges, and his individual courses had covered only a broad range of basics. In addition, the Creche had necessarily conditioned them against injuring others unless a special series of circumstances was invoked; otherwise, it was far too easy for the Creche-born to go too far when fighting an outsider opponent, and that was too dangerous a possibility for the administration to have risked when it sent them to Command School.

All this aside, they had not been entirely declawed. They were important enough to their makers that a conscious decision could allow them to set aside those guidelines...but even with those aside, Don wasn't sure he could have taken Nathan on his own. The other man was too fast, and unless he managed to catch him by sufficient surprise, much of his individual skill was useless. Individually, he and Dominic had been given rudimentary assassin training - the Creche liked to plan ahead by laying groundwork for future possibilities - but without any equipment, he doubted it would be sufficient.

No, what he had in mind would be far easier to put into effect. The twins had been given only basic individual training because there were few assignments that would require only one of them to complete. As with almost all other aspects of their lives, Donovan and Dominic worked best together.

There was no doubt in Don's mind that he and Dominic could subdue Nathan together. The IF had shown an interest in them from nearly the beginning of their existence, and the IF liked demonstrations. Just after they'd turned 15, before they were transferred to Command School, the IF had given them one of its ex-agents to test their combined skills on, some traitor they no longer had any use for. The IF didn't like to be wasteful, on the whole. The man was armed, and they were not, but it hardly mattered. Forty-seven seconds after the demonstration had begun, it was over. They'd had nightmares for weeks, but the Creche could afford excellent specialized psychiatry.

Now they had cause to use that training again. They would need someplace that wasn't holocammed, where they wouldn't be interrupted until they'd finished their work, but those were just details. The outcome was already decided. Their world had not prepared them to deal with love. Death was another matter entirely.

Dante knew none of this, of course, and it would probably be best if she remained ignorant of most of the details, but he didn't want her to suffer. He looked up to meet his brother's gaze, and nodded almost imperceptibly towards the door as he took Dante's hand in his own and led her towards it. Dominic kissed his goodbyes with Roxy and got there before they did, waiting only a few steps inside the hallway for them to catch up.

Pallas had asked them to keep an eye on Nathan from a distance, advising strongly against any close contact. He was trying to decide whether or not to tell Helen about it when he spotted her sitting near a group of plants, half-hidden.

If he didn't tell her and she found out later, she would probably be mad, and Helen mad was never a good thing. Her nickname was "Helen" for a reason. On the other hand, if he did tell her, then she'd want to spy on Nathan with him, and that could put her in serious danger if Nathan managed to spot them. He didn't want Helen in danger. He didn't want himself in danger, either, but there was no telling what Nathan would do if they didn't stop him quickly.

He approached and sat down, looking troubled. "Heyo, Helen. I talked to Pallas." He sighed. He couldn't keep it from her. He'd just have to try to keep her safe. "The commander thinks it was Jor we saw Nathan beating on. Could be. I didn't get a really good look. She...she wants us to keep an eye on him, but from a really large distance."

The commons was crowded, and with her normal tactlessness, she began to shoulder her way through, not really paying attention. A whistling soldier bumped into her, and her turquoise eyes narrowed as she glanced up to scowl at him. But... there was something familiar about him, and she paused, the two of them still standing in the center of the plaza as she stared up at him in puzzlement.

Wait. She knew those eyes.

"Yes. Us," he said finally. "But that doesn't mean we have to get close enough to deal with him directly. Helen, I want you to go back to the barracks and wait for me, ok?" He saw her face beginning to harden and held up a hand defensively. "Just hear me out. I need to go to the workroom and finish a few things. That's all. You're not allowed in except during visiting hours, and I'd ... I want to know that you're safe. I promise I won't go anywhere else, and I'll come see you as soon as I'm done, I swear. Please?"

This was like a hub, with six hallways and the docking bay leading away from the main room. One of them led to the barracks, and one to the Infirmary and the Mess Hall. Those two had already been explored. The other four, however, were still mysterious, still unknown, and Sol mentally picked one at random before tugging gently at Gabe's sleeve.

Maybe if she got something of a head start, it wouldn't be too bad.

It was a familiar survival sensation when the hairs on the back of her neck slowly stood on end, and she paused in the center of the plaza, looking around warily. Her gaze was drawn to a solitary girl, seated on a far bench as she typed at the desk held in her lap. Kat couldn't quite put her finger on why her attention was so focused on this one stranger when the girl looked up and stared her straight in the eyes. It was with disbelief that her own emerald-gold eyes widened, even as her pupils slitted dangerously, and Kat recognized one of the two people she hated more than anything in the world.

If that face had been eight years younger, and smirking over the edge of her own grave, Kat would have known her.

Sol.

Her muscles tensed instinctively, the weight of the dagger strapped to her calf suddenly very noticeable. It wasn't exactly surprise that Kat felt upon seeing one of her old enemies again. She'd known that Gabe and Sol would be at Command School, and dreams of bloody retribution had kept her alive all those years at Charybdis. Part of her had thought of this moment each and every day until her arrival at Eros. Yet... there was still a remnant of shock. It was just that it seemed so far-fetched that she might ever escape the Institute, so unbelieveable to think that she'd ever have the chance to exact her revenge.

Sol's eyes widened.

Denali Katera Quistin.

The echoing surprise in Kat's eyes hardened into a vicious smile, her canines touching the bottom of her lip.

Unable to do anything but stare, Sol looked at the bruises on her face, ignoring the murderous grin, and then focused on the white band around her arm. That meant something, but she didn't know what. She could hazard a guess, though. People around that section were casting unsubtle looks of curiousity and apprehension in Kat's direction, but the girl didn't seem to notice. That white band meant that people were supposed to be frightened of her, for some reason.

She couldn't think of anything to do but stare, and so she did nothing, finally wrenching her gaze away from Kat's and looking back to her terminal...but her eyes didn't pause on the screen, and she just stared to have something else to stare at besides those glowing green-gold eyes. Katera. A vision of her bringing the metal bar up against Gabe's seven year old body made her eyes flinch, but the rest of her was silent and motionless as stone.

Second day. Things only get worse from here.

It was almost... like her birthday. A present. A very desired, unexpected but treasured gift. Gabe and Sol. Delivered right here to her doorstep. Her grin grew wider against Sol's icy blank look, but whatever the other girl might be thinking was inconsequential. All Kat could think about was how Gabe had looked as Jax held him, as she slammed that metal pipe into his ribs and listened to the music of his painful groans, and how Sol had given her that glance of despair as she knocked her out with a kick.

The initial surprise in Sol's glance told her much. Neither she nor Gabe had ever expected to see her again. After all... she had been iced, and her release from Charybdis was a most unexpected event. But that security they thought they'd owned would only serve to hasten their deaths. Gabe and Sol hadn't thought much of her since she was taken away.

Whereas Kat had had eight long years to dream.

With a cocky wink she brought a sharply clawed hand to her chin and blew a kiss in Sol's direction, her sharp canines flashing as her lips pulled back in a smirk. Then with a swirl of coppery curls, she turned and disappeared into the crowds of students, intent on her scheming once more.

Gabe and Sol were here, right where she wanted them.

Gabe. She spotted him now, walking out of the class corridor at a slow pace for him. He looked...distracted, on autopilot, though he didn't come close to running into anyone. His distant gaze fastened on her and his steps quickened slightly, but he didn't seem to notice her distress until he got closer. It took her until he was next to her and seated before she could speak the necessary words.

Gabe walked down the corridor with his desk tucked under his arm, toward the Commons. His mind was still preoccupied with the events of that morning. His feet navigated the corridors automatically; his body wove between the other students of its own accord.

There had to be something he could do. Seeing Sol like he'd seen her this morning, so . . . so terrified . . . how could he just sit by and do nothing? There had to be some way he could help her, beyond simple physical comfort after the fact. After the fact wasn't good enough. Not for Sol. She deserved more.

She certainly didn't deserve this.

He reached the commons, and spotted Sol waiting on a bench with her desk.

There was something . . . off . . . about her, but Gabe couldn't place it yet, distracted as he was. He seated himself beside her, and opened his mouth to speak, but her voice cut him off.

"I just saw Katera Quistin. She's here, Gabe."

Suddenly Gabe could not remember what it was he'd been about to say.

Gabe's mind spun. Kat. Kat, the psychopath that had attacked Sol in the Garden. Kat, the monster that had beaten him senseless in the bathroom. Kat was here. Kat was in Command School. Not really iced at all. Kat was here.

Kat was going to kill them.

He wasn't totally sure why he was so certain of this. He didn't even know that Kat remembered them. She'd probably had dozens of garden blindsides, dozens of bathroom brawls. She had probably killed before. What were Sol and Gabe, to her?

The ones that got her iced from Battle School. That's what.

Slowly, Gabe's mind solidified again. The last time he'd gone up against Kat, he'd have killed her if not for her ally, Jax. But he'd changed a lot since then. He was bigger now, stronger, faster, more agile. He'd trained his body to do just this, to defend itself at all costs. But more importantly, he had more to live for now than he ever had before.

Before, there had been . . . almost nothing. He had kept on surviving out of habit. He'd been seeking answers to the questions about the crash, of course, and learning all he could from the IF so that someday his life would mean something, but none of that had been anything like the fire in him now, the burning will to survive, and to keep Sol safe.

To keep Sol safe . . .

Kat was insane. Plain and simple. If they went up against her . . . there simply was no telling what might happen. And Gabe wanted Sol safe. More than anything else, more than his own safety, he wanted Sol safe.

And Gabe only knew of one way to ensure that.

Gabe stood, and Sol also, and he started leading the way toward the Room. She realized where they were headed quickly enough, because she matched pace with. Gabe spoke in a low voice as they walked.

"I receieved a message in my last class," he said. "I'm to report to the Headmaster's office again. Sol, I'll be back as quickly as I can, but I want you to promise me you'll stay in the Room until I get back. Kat is insane, and if we're to have any chance we've got to go after her together."

They reached the door of the Room, and Gabe stopped outside.

She frowned. There was something about his face she didn't like. She couldn't name what hit was, but she didn't like it at all...but his request wasn't unreasonable. He just wanted to be sure she was safe until he returned from his meeting with the major. That's all. All she had to do was agree, and he would relax a little, and everything would be alright. At least, alright enough for them to relax and come up with a way to deal with Kat together.

The ebb and flow of student traffic around her made it hard to concentrate. She wasn't sure why. Learning to concentrate on your work when there were 39 other kids bouncing around and screaming and talking and laughing and occasionally fighting was a hard-won skill, but it just wasn't happening this afternoon, and she gave up and watched the people instead.

She recognized a few of them from BattleSchool - just people she'd seen in the halls or in her armies. The vast majority she'd never seen before, and watching them walk back and forth was strangely soothing. She felt like part of the scenery, safe and anonymous, and that felt good.

Her glance flicked back to her desk. Her searching for the nickname "Mode" hadn't brought up any results at all. Jax had disappeared just after the re-evaluation. That was all she'd been able to find, and it had been a long, tedious search with the Charybdis security chasing her the entire time. Kat's file had been easier to find, but it was eye-straining work to sift through her file. The disciplinary record was huge. Why had they ever let her out in the first place?

With a sigh of resignment, she pushed her hair away from her face and got back to work. Twenty minutes passed as she searched and dodged, logged off, logged on and searched again. Her free time was almost up. Gabe would be here soon, and she wanted to have something to show for her time spent.

When she found it, she almost skipped over it as unimportant, but a name caught her eye.

Nathan Terrence. Where had she heard that name before? It was one of Kat's friends from the Institute, apparently, but that name rang a bell. She was about to try to pull up his file when her trusty security alert lit and she shut down. Enough prying for right now. She didn't want to be caught just because she was impatient.

She closed her desk and looked up to see Gabe walking towards her. She resisted the urge to go and assist him, but it wasn't easy. He was walking easily enough, but he was still entirely too pale. They shouldn't have asked him to go back to classes so soon. She shouldn't have let him out of the infirmary this morning...but it was done, and she gave him a concerned smile as he sat down.

"Hi there," she said as he sat. "Dig around in that remarkable memory of yours and tell me why the name Nathan Terrence is familiar to me." They had lived entirely together for all of her recent life. If she knew the name, he would know it too...and he would remember where he'd heard it.

He saw Sol staring at him, a little bit disbelievingly, as though she couldn't decide if he was serious or just making this up, as a joke on her or something.

"He was a Fox," Gabe explained, meeting her gaze. "Iced just before we arrived. His file was still in the system when we looked through Fox Army records our second morning."

She was still looking at him a little strangely. She remembered the name now, clearly, and knew that he was not making it up. But she also remembered looking up the file, so at least it wasn't like Gabe was pulling the information out of the air.

Shaking her head, she went back to her desk and started a search for Nathan Terrence, still grinning. Gabe was just full of surprises lately. Her grin shrank just a little. He was obviously capable of far more than he was doing, school-wise. Why was he holding back? She'd noticed it back in their launchy days, but had never had the courage to ask. It was his business, really, and for some reason he felt the need to hide his genius.

Her search came back far too soon, and with a quiet curse she realized she'd run it on the Command School database instead of within the Charybdis protected files. She'd been too distracted with Gabe. Sighing, she brought the window up to close it - and paused.

One student record retrieved.

Terrence...was here?

She must have shown something in her face, because Gabe pressed her hand a little and it broke her surprise. She opened the file and blinked.

Terrence, iced from the BattleSchool when he was 13 for beating Anjelice Iddantel and Ariadne Ivemey nearly to death. This was the boy who'd left the bruises that were still relatively fresh when Commander Dante had taken their transfer slips from Pallas the evening they transferred into Fox. Angel. Only it wasn't Angel anymore. It was Asmodeus.

Asm..

He met Sol's eyes. "So this Mode that Kat has gotten to replace Jax was the same boy that roughed up Iddantel just before we arrived in Fox?"

Such an . . . odd . . . coincidence. Gabe never trusted coincidences. But no matter which way he turned this one, he couldn't see it as anything but.

Nathan Terrence was the most dangerous person she'd ever heard of. The fact that she'd attempted to fight this man twice with no weapons and no tranquilizers and no army made her weak with shock, and she touched her neck gingerly, rubbing the mark through her collar. Dominic hadn't been exaggerating when he said Mode was dangerous. Dominic had, in fact, been dangerously soft-spoken.

Every unarmed combat class offered, Mode had taken...and had his grades not been indication enough of his prowess, Sol would vouch for them herself, by insanely lucky personal experience. Lucky that he'd been in a hurry to get Katera away from the room instead of expending the energy to kill her then, and lucky that he'd been in a playful mood in the Storage Bay when she'd gone to retrieve the knife.

But it hadn't felt like playful. It felt more like...reluctance...but that didn't fit in with the picture this file painted.

And either way, he was obviously on Katera's side.

Equipment. Where were they going to get the kind of equipment they would need to spy on a kid like this?

The Engineering Bay?

"It wouldn't hurt to look," she said finally, and sat back, away from Gabe and her desk, staring at the smooth black panel on the back of the screen. She was still shaken from her unexpectedly narrow escapes. Katera certainly knew how to pick her allies, that much was certain. Why would she pick someone that looked so like Jax? And where was Jax, anyway?

There wasn't anything she could do to answer those questions for herself, however, and she sighed and moved her glance from the back of the desk to his face. She didn't tell him she was scared, but it was evident in her eyes. Gabe was talented. Gabe was lucky. He could turn off his emotion or leave it on, as it pleased him. She'd often envied him that ability, the skill of learning to turn fear off so he could deal with the problem at hand smoothly and efficiently.

She remembered the chopper and his reaction to it and sighed. Of course...it didn't always work. Nothing did.

Would he ever understand like a normal person understood naturally?

"Alright, so we go to the Enginerring Bay. Now?"

Was there a reason to stay?

Helen was playing on her desk, doing pretty much nothing but scrolling up and down through her notes. Cas had work to do and had been spending time at the engineering bay, probably wanted to fix some bugs out of the little spyder. But she knew he wouldn't be all that long, so she decided to stake out and wait for him. She was just begining to drift off in another day dream when she saw him walking into the commons. She pushed her desk aside and weaved through the crowd of people.